


Where We Stand

by helens78



Series: Trip Stumble Fall [8]
Category: Durham County, due South
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub, Ex Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike needs to know a few things about Ray and Fraser.  Ray doesn't really want to talk about it, or think about it, but it turns out he does want to do what Mike tells him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Stand

"So you and the Mountie, huh?"

Ray glances over at Mike. Mike's just sitting there, looking out the window, checking out the Chicago scenery and wildlife--hobo there, teenage truants there--as Ray drives them to the first crime scene on their list for today. Mike's not bothering to look at Ray, not even after a statement like that.

"Don't know where you got that from," Ray says, and as soon as it's out of his mouth he realizes he probably should have backed it up even further-- _I'm not gay_ , maybe. Fuck.

But Mike does look at Ray when Ray's finished lying to him, and Ray glances over when they hit the next red light. "What?"

"Come on," Mike says quietly. "Don't bullshit me."

 _Why not? You're not gonna be here more than a couple weeks anyway._ Ray grits his teeth and shakes his head. "You don't want bullshit, maybe you should leave some things alone."

"You want to be left alone, maybe you shouldn't let him torque you up like he does."

Ray flashes back to the way Mike grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his hand down on the desk, knocking the pencil out of his fingers, and okay, yeah--Fraser does get him torqued, still gets him torqued.

But Mike has a hell of a grip and he's not afraid to use it. Ray squirms down into his seat and shakes his head again. "It's none of your fucking business," he mutters.

"Right." Mike snorts and goes back to looking out the window; the light goes green again, and Ray keeps driving.

The silence gets uncomfortable after about four blocks, so Ray says, "How long you been looking for this guy, anyway?"

"We found the first body eight months ago. Got enough evidence to point at Donald six weeks back. Found out he was here a week ago, but who the fuck knows--all the red tape it took to get me here, he might be long gone by now. We're still waiting for that first body to drop."

"Shitty thing to be waiting for."

"Yeah." Mike sighs. "The one we're going out to see right now, it doesn't really line up--but it's a maybe, and I'm here; we might as well check out the maybes."

"Fair enough."

There's another two blocks of silence, but this time Mike's the one who breaks it. "You the one ended it with the Mountie?"

"Jesus _Christ_ \--"

"None of my business. Right."

"Right," Ray snaps, but he exhales hard through his teeth and finally shakes his head. "No."

"No?"

"No, he was the one who walked out."

"And he chases off anybody you look at twice?"

"Pretty much."

"You ever get sick of that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe." When Ray doesn't say anything to that, Mike murmurs, "I don't chase off easy."

They're at the right address now, and Ray pulls the car neatly into a parallel space and cuts the engine. "You always this blunt about things?"

"Who knows how long I'm going to be here? Why waste time dicking around?"

"I guess." Ray shrugs. "You get through the day with me and you're still up for something, I'll bring you back to my place. Drop you off at your hotel after if you want."

"All right. That's a plan." Mike nods, and they get out of the car, on to the first crime scene, looking for Mike's guy.

* * *

Mike makes it through the first day. It's not even a question. He's cold and efficient at every crime scene they check out, and he eliminates three of them right off the bat. The fourth is more of a question, so Mike takes some notes, Ray takes some photos, and they head back to the 2-7 to file everything they've got and close out the day.

Vecchio and Fraser are there when Ray and Mike are ready to leave, and Vecchio gives them a brief wave as they head off. Fraser--if looks could blow a hole through the back of somebody's head, Ray would be on the floor next to Mike right now, both of them bleeding pretty bad. Ray shakes off the shudder running down his spine and leads Mike out.

"You want to get some dinner?" Ray asks.

"Yeah. Something fast. Nothing fancy."

"Sounds about right. There's a diner not too far from here."

"Works for me."

They sit down and have just managed to order food--burgers, which are pretty good here--when the door opens and Fraser walks in. Mike looks over at him, eyes narrowed slightly, and Ray clenches both fists and stares down at the table.

"Not a coincidence, I'm guessing," Mike says quietly. "Is he always like this?"

"It's--complicated," Ray mutters. "He's here as often as I am."

"Got a thing for their pie or something?"

"Something."

Mike reaches across the table and grabs Ray's wrist, and Ray looks up at him in shock. This-- _here_ \--in front of Fraser, in front of _everyone_ , and that grip is tight, tight, tight, Mike's holding on hard enough for it to _hurt_. It makes everything else in the room fade out to nothing. Even Fraser's bright red serge is a dull smudge in the corner of Ray's vision, and as Ray stares into Mike's eyes, that smudge disappears, too.

"Yeah," Mike says quietly, "I thought so."

This is where Ray should pull back, especially here in public, but he can't. Mike's the only thing he can see right now, and the warmth of that, the _novelty_ of that, is pretty fucking intense.

So no, he's not going to pull away, and it really doesn't matter who's watching.

"Tell me about this," Mike says. He squeezes Ray's wrist tighter for a second, just long enough to make sure Ray knows what he's talking about. "Do you fight or do you just drop?"

Ray sucks in a hard breath through his teeth. "I don't know." When Mike raises an eyebrow, Ray shifts in his seat a little and admits, "It's been a while."

"Since--"

Ray shakes his head. "Since before him."

It should send Ray into flashbacks; for a split-second, it _does_ send him into flashbacks. The times Fraser gave it too him just a little too hard, or so Fraser thought; the times they fought until they had to fuck it out of their systems, and Ray got left with bruises all over. That one time over the back of the couch, Fraser's hand on the front of Ray's neck.

The way Fraser started threatening to walk out because he couldn't handle wanting it that way; the day he actually _did_.

But no; getting this on purpose from someone who wants to give it to him? That dates back to before Fraser. And right now, for the first time in six months, it feels honest-to-God like this is _after Fraser_ , like this is not just a pause between violent encounters but something _new_.

So Ray looks back up at Mike and says, quietly, "What do you like it to be?"

"I want it to be real," Mike says, and he rubs at the inside of Ray's wrist, rubs his thumb in little circles where Ray's pulse is beating like a drum. "Doesn't have to be any one thing. You can drop like a fucking brick one night and fight me until you're sweating and broken the next, if that's what's real for you."

 _Fuck._ Ray nods, swallows, nods again; he can't see anything but Mike, can't feel anything but Mike's hand on his wrist. Fraser's here in the diner, and right now that doesn't matter one fucking bit. This once, he's not saying _yes_ just because Fraser's watching.

"We're done here," Mike says. He takes his hand off Ray's wrist, and suddenly the room comes back into focus. They're in a diner not too far from the 27th; there really are people here. Fraser's still at the table behind them, still staring at Mike. When Ray spots him, Fraser looks briefly at Ray, and the anger in his face makes Ray clench his jaw.

"Fuck you," Ray mutters. He turns back to the table, where Mike's got his wallet out --it's amazing, he's a Canadian with a wallet and actual U.S. American dollars in it, not to mention he's paying for dinner. He doesn't say anything about Ray's outburst, thank God. He just drops enough money on the table to cover the bill.

"Come on."

As they head out, Mike looks over at Fraser, and Ray gets a good view of how they're sizing each other up. Fraser's look--well, Ray's seen Fraser direct that look at a lot of people, the _enjoy him while you have him, but he's mine_ look.

But the one Mike gives Fraser says something different from what Andrew's looks used to say, from what Jake's looks said. Andrew's looks used to say _Goddamn, you're hot; wish you were looking at me like you look at him_ , and Jake's said _Whatever, man, I'm not in it to own anybody_.

The look on Mike's face says _You don't scare me, motherfucker_ , and Ray thinks it might actually be true.

Fraser fades back into a smudge of red in the background as Ray walks out with Mike, and when Mike goes over to the driver's side of the GTO and raises his eyebrows expectantly, Ray almost forgets Fraser's in the diner at all. He tosses the car keys over the roof of the GTO and slides into the passenger seat, and he holds his breath as Mike eases them into traffic. This is not up to him anymore, none of this is up to him, and for once, instead of making him want to punch the nearest wall--or Mountie--it just makes him lean back and wait to see where they're going.

 _-end-_


End file.
